


Chosen Irregularity

by sabriel75



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Community: thegameison_sh, Free Will, Gen, Introspection, Psychoanalysis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-06
Updated: 2011-01-06
Packaged: 2017-10-14 12:02:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/149067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabriel75/pseuds/sabriel75
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>She needs the distraction, a purpose. Sherlock needs someone as mad as he to be his eyes and ears in the homeless underground.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Chosen Irregularity

**Author's Note:**

> Written for _Challenge Three_ over at [thegameison_sh](http://community.livejournal.com/thegameison_sh/)

There is no way to explain how she is.

Freak doesn’t begin to cover her quirks, her needs, her fascination with people… her unquenchable thirst to see but not describe what she sees, to know but not relate to what she knows, to learn but not be able to teach.

How can she explain this weird ability to look into the minds of humans and come away with the knowledge of their secrets?   

She should be afraid; she had been afraid when she realized no one else ever faced this conundrum. It isn’t like she hadn’t known she was different, that she might be the only kind of creature who could pass through the psyche of another, facing the depths of their soul without being affected herself, but the actual epiphany burns.

Maybe, if she feels like being honest with herself, she might admit that she hasn’t come away unscathed because while nothing fazes her… her own mind terrifies itself with the lack of stimulation this world can provide her.   

Life isn’t exactly the pie in the sky place she had made it out to be. Her freedom from societal niceties didn’t garner her the acclaims she had hoped it would, nor does it afford her a roof over her head, food from hunger.

Only companionship, something she had never thought possible.

Among the nameless, the forgotten, the homeless; she finds easy acceptance. They are her kin, not in intelligence but in a brotherhood of broken spirits.   Necessities are just that, necessary, and she cannot seem to find a way to break habits that thwart even the barest hints of hunger.

And boredom comes too frequently… and too swiftly sometimes that she needs the pick-me-up. The nonsensical effects of stupidity, the overwhelming realness of idiocy don’t flag even when her brain functions only work at half capacity. Being blissed out might seem an exercise in restraint because oh how she longs for a stronger medicine, knows there are drugs that could take her to a higher plane of urgency, could create the meaning she seeks in this existential life.

The hostility of the world is no longer something she studies in theory, but now embraces, using her first-hand knowledge of it as camouflage to hide away from the harsh normality of this world.

A world, she never thought to rejoin, leaving it of her own free will, she questions the proffered golden ticket

He's a lovely, wild, irrepressibly strange but exotic gift insomuch that this person is just like she is. When he bumps into her and she sees, feels, can barely withstand the haunted look in his eyes, knowing it has to be the same one in her own; she finally realizes… there is someone else. There is someone else as irregular as she.  

She meets his gaze though, follows him, distrusts him too; even as something new and unrecognizable in her cries out for help. He understands without words and recruits her there on the spot.   

So that when she pulls away, a pocket full of notes and none of the recriminations that usually come with, something clicks, something in this crazy, mixed-up world finally matters, because living in the shadows makes her the perfect Baker Street Irregular.


End file.
